Driven
by Brit Columbia
Summary: Berkeley makes Diana angry
1. Chapter 1

**Driven**

Chapter One

_by Brit Columbia_

_Fandom_: Fake

_Pairing_: Berkeley/Diana

_Rating_: T, I guess. This chapter is fairly worksafe. Sort of. _Timing_: Set in August in the first year of the FFYT series. That means it happened before Slave to A Gladiator.

_Spoilers_: Volume 7 of Sanami Matoh's Fake series

_Disclaimer_: All of these characters belong to Sanami Matoh. I make no money for writing fanfiction about them.

_Author's notes_: This is a Happy Birthday fic for **lunasariel** , who has been my LJ friend for years! Thanks for all the times you read and enjoyed my stories, and also for keeping me entertained with your own thought-provoking posts. I hope the coming year is both awesome and happy for you. Your exact request was _"Can it pretty please involve the Commissioner being a lecherous jerk? With a possible side order of Ryo being awesome? ^.^" _Well, that is exactly what will happen in this story, although Ryo has not shown up yet.

**Driven**

Chapter One

_by Brit Columbia_

Diana sat at the table, scratching one magenta lacquered fingernail against the tablecloth. Berkie sure was taking his time in the men's room. Perhaps the poor dear was constipated, she thought with a grim smile. But when Berkeley returned to her a few minutes later adjusting his tie, his swollen upper lip and disordered hair told a different story. She gave him one razor-sharp glance and then swept her eyes around the dining room. There was no sign of that waiter who had been so blatantly hitting on him earlier. Had he really just screwed that guy in the men's room? When he was out on a date with her? The nerve of that bastard. She wasn't about to let him get away with that.

"Are you ready to go, my dear?" he asked her, lowering himself easily into his seat.

"Yes, if you are, Berkie. Sure you don't want any dessert?" She kept her voice casual as she picked up the single-sheet dessert menu.

He shook his head and smiled enigmatically. "Not for me, thanks. I believe I've already sampled the best delights this establishment has to offer this evening."

_I'll just bet you have_. Diana did not say this aloud although she wanted to. Instead, she fought down her feelings and tossed the menu back onto the table. Summoning up her best seductive smile, she purred, "Let's go, then."

Berkeley was silent as they walked out of the restaurant, which was characteristic of him, Diana reflected. He usually became quiet and somewhat withdrawn after sex, and his face would take on a thoughtful and distant expression, as if his mind had gone on a solitary journey to far-off lands. Fortunately, it was a short-lived phenomenon, and he was usually ready for another round fairly soon after. Berkeley's famous dick had a pretty impressive bounce-back time, considering he was no spring chicken.

Not that he was going to be needing his dick again tonight, she thought somewhat bitterly. It was too bad for both of them. She had been looking forward to making love with him later, but she couldn't even consider that now. Not after his self-serving and disrespectful behavior back at the restaurant. She wondered who else in that place, besides that slut of a waiter, was in on the joke. Was he in the habit of screwing the staff while his dates waited obliviously for him at the table? She might have to go back there and teach them a lesson someday soon. But not, of course, in any way that Berk could trace back to her.

In any case, that could wait. Serving Berkley a little comeuppance was at the top of her agenda for now. She'd better do it quick before his eyes lost that faraway look and he returned to his usual sharp and perceptive self.

The valet parking guy pulled up in Berkeley's Cadillac and got out, smiling. "Good evening, Commissioner Rose, sir!"

He held out the keys, but before Berkeley could take them, Diana took a step forward and neatly plucked them from his hand.

"Ma-, er, Miss?" the young man said, glancing from her to Berkeley, his smile faltering momentarily. Diana wasn't sure whether he was more worried about his tip or something else. She didn't like the ways his eyes had been shining at the sight of Berkeley. God, was she getting paranoid or what?

Ignoring him altogether, Diana turned a five hundred-watt smile on her companion. "Let _me_ drive, Sweetie. You know how I love big, strong, powerful... engines."

Berkeley's face started to look slightly more alert. She knew he didn't want to let her drive his car. Berkeley was the type who preferred to drive, rather than be driven. He occasionally suffered the services of a chauffeur if protocol demanded it, but he very much preferred to drive his own vehicles.

"Now, Diana," he began. "I know you are enamored of my, er car, but I do want to remind you that the traffic patterns of New York City are quite different from the open highways of California. Perhaps it would be better if-"

"Nonsense, darling!" She strode around to the driver's side of the car and smiled dazzlingly at the other valet, a younger but slightly less cute version of the first one. He dragged his eyes up from her cleavage, and hastened to open the door for her with a flourish. Diana rewarded him by patting his cheek before turning her attention back to Berkeley. "Driving in New York City is exactly like driving in LA. There's nothing to it, right..." she glanced at the young valet's name tag- "Jerry?"

He concurred enthusiastically, but hesitated when he became aware that his co-worker was trying to send him a warning look. Berkeley's smile seemed frozen in place, and Diana knew she had won. He wasn't going to fight with her in front of the valets, but he'd probably make her pull over at the first suitable opportunity and change places with him. All she had to do right now was to help him save face.

"Come on, Berkieeee," she said cajolingly, sending him a smoldering look across the top of the car. "You know how _thrilling_ it is for me to handle a stick shift instead of that boring automatic transmission on my dull little car back home. Pretty please?" She made her eyes go big and round, and pouted her lips out.

"Of course, my dear," Berkely said sardonically. "I place my life in your capable hands." He nodded to the valet nearest him and handed the man a folded bill before getting into the passenger side of the car. He had no sooner gotten the door closed when the car lurched forward with a roar.

"Wheee!" squealed Diana.

Berkely said nothing because he was too busy struggling to get his seat belt on. It wasn't easy, as the G's from Diana's rapid acceleration were pressing him back in his seat. When she took a sharp left, she could have sworn the wheels on Berkeley's side of the car left the ground briefly. She hoped he was scared, the bastard. He didn't know it yet, but he ought to be.

-end of chapter one-


	2. Chapter 2

**Driven**

Chapter two

_by_ _Brit Columbia_

_Fandom_: Fake

_Pairing_: Berkeley/Diana

_Rating_: Worksafe.

_Timing_: Set in August in the first year of the FFYT series. That means it happened before Slave to A Gladiator.

_Summary: _Berkeley pisses Diana off and she decides to teach him a lesson.

_Spoilers_: Volume 7 of Sanami Matoh's Fake series

_Disclaimer_: All of these characters belong to Sanami Matoh. I make no money for writing fanfiction about them.

_Author's notes_: This is a fic for lunasariel.

**Driven**

Chapter two

Berkeley's Cadillac hurtled toward the stop sign waiting at the end of the block, but Diana did not appear to be planning to stop for it. Berkeley could feel the excellent dinner he had eaten earlier trying to climb back up his throat.

"Diana, pull over! Diana!"

Diana's only response was to punch the radio and crank it up. It was still set on WKTU from when she had fiddled with it on the way to the restaurant. Dance music filled the car, and Berkeley's protests were effectively drowned out.

Berkeley immediately reached out a hand to turn it off, but before his finger was able to connect with the button, Diana gave the steering wheel a vicious crank, and suddenly the car was spinning madly all over the street, the brakes screaming as Diana laid rubber in tight circles on the blacktop. A silver blur shooting across his field of vision told him they had narrowly missed hitting an oncoming vehicle, although at the speed they were moving, he couldn't identify its type or even its size.

His heart in his mouth, Berkeley braced one hand against the dash and thanked his lucky stars that he had managed to click his seat belt into place seconds before they had spun out. They lurched to a stop a scant foot from a telephone pole. Jesus Lord, that could have been ugly.

"Whoops, wrong way!" squealed Diana, and then laughed before throwing it into reverse. The woman was crazy!

"Diana! Stop the car right now!" Berkeley shouted, every muscle in his body taut with fear. They were roaring back the way they had come, going at top speed, but in reverse.

"Aw come on, Berkie, where's your sense of fun?" Diana didn't even glance his way, as her eyes were glued to the rear view mirror.

Berkeley looked over his shoulder and saw that despite the fact that Diana was doing at least sixty, she was somehow keeping the car straddling the center line. Headlights veered away from them and horns honked madly. Berkeley saw the alarmed and horrified expressions on the faces of more than one driver as the car shot past them. What the hell was she doing? Was she suicidal all of a sudden? Did she not care about her career, or his? What about the publicity?

"STOP!" he roared at the top of his lungs, and to his great surprise, the madwoman beside him slammed on the brakes. The momentum jerked Berkeley's body against his seat belt with such force that he was sure he had just sustained a bruise to his sternum. However, a bruise to his sternum was still vastly preferable to the broken bones and internal injuries that he would undoubtedly be left with should this situation go on any longer. A screeching sound caused him to glance over his shoulder, and what he saw caused his blood to freeze in his veins. A delivery truck was skidding toward them, and although the driver was clearly standing on the brakes, it was apparent that he wouldn't be able to stop in time. Berkeley braced himself for impact.

"Cowabunga!" yelled Diana and the car leapt forward just in time. Almost as suddenly, she slammed on the brakes again and laughed as the delivery truck shuddered to a stop behind them. Berkeley's stunned brain dimly registered that it was an ice truck.

Berkeley stared at Diana in horror, temporarily bereft of speech. She glanced back at him just once, the happy grin on her face very much at odds with the rage in her eyes, and with a sinking feeling, Berkeley understood exactly why she was doing this. He had been a fool to think she wouldn't notice. She was nothing like the other women and men that he regularly dated, and it had been unwise of him to think he could put one over on her back at the restaurant.

The truck driver behind them booted open his door and jumped down from the cab, cursing roundly. As he strode toward them with a crowbar in his hands, Diana revved the Caddy's engine a couple of times, and then drove away from him, although she seemed not to be able to resist sticking her left hand out of the window and giving the guy the finger.

Berkeley let out a sigh of relief, and not merely for the fact that she seemed to have returned to her senses and now seemed inclined to drive the speed limit. He had also been afraid that she would relish the opportunity to use her Judo skills on the truck driver, since she couldn't very well take out her frustrations on the Commissioner of the NYPD. At least not with Judo, although her insane driving had almost given him a heart attack this evening. Right now he just wanted her to leave this area before the police showed up.

He counted to ten before he spoke. "Dee-Dee," he said, in what he hoped was a smooth and relaxed tone, "You've had your fun AND taught me a lesson. Are you satisfied?"

"Satisfied?" she repeated. "Oh you mean like _you_ were when you came out of the men's room, sweetie?" The car began to accelerate.

"Now, my dear, I do regret that, and I hope you understand..." Berkeley's voice trailed away as the fear began to rise in him again.

"Berkie, I understand perfectly how you see the situation. You're a lovable rascal who can't keep his dick in his pants and just can't say no to a come-hither glance. Right?" She turned her face toward him again, her expression one of unholy glee. Without looking at the road she accelerated dramatically.

Berkeley couldn't help but be aware that they were drifting out of their lane. Sweat sprang out on his forehead. "Diana, I'm begging you..."

She laughed out loud and to his intense relief, returned her eyes to the road. Then he was clutching the brace-handle on his door as, without any warning whatsoever, Diana executed a sweeping U-turn, nearly taking out a blue Hyundai. For the second time that evening, Berkeley felt the wheels on his side of the car leave the road. He fought the urge to snatch the keys out of the ignition. At this speed, it would be high folly. Diana probably wouldn't be able to retain control of the car, and they would crash and die for a certainty.

They thundered back the way they had come, and when Diana crossed the yellow line and drove straight at the ice truck that had almost hit them before, Berkeley shut his eyes tightly and focused all his attention on remaining the master of his own bowels.

-end of Chapter 2-

Additional Author's Notes: Just so we're clear, I do not endorse crazy driving as a way to teach errant loved ones a lesson, no matter how upset a person might be. Diana Spacey has a number of professional skills, and driving is one of them. Anyone who has not been professionally trained by the FBI should never attempt to drive like this!


End file.
